


Artifact Storage Room 3

by maaaaa



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23654140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maaaaa/pseuds/maaaaa
Relationships: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Kudos: 13





	Artifact Storage Room 3

Blair stood motionless in the doorway, taking in the room in a few quick glances. It was musty smelling and cluttered with cardboard boxes and crates of dog-eared paper-filled manila folders stacked willy-nilly around the perimeter. The shelves were haphazardly lined with books and dozens and dozens of assorted artifacts. The old desk still sat directly across from the door and piles of books were strewn across most of its surface too.

“Wow, it hasn’t changed much, huh?” he mused. His hand was still on the doorknob, his fingers still shaky with excitement. The minute vibrations caused the keys dangling from the lock to jangle softly.

Jim placed his hand in the small of Blair’s back and with an indulgent sigh gave him a shove, pushing him into the room.

Blair stumbled a little, as much from hesitation as being taken off guard. He took a couple of steps, then stopped, and just stood and stared.

Jim came in behind him. He slipped the key out of the lock, flipped the light switch up, closed the door and re-locked it, and then pocketed the key ring,

“I don’t know, Chief, it’s got no personality now,” he observed blithely. “I could’ve sworn I heard war chants. You know, Yanomamo headhunter stuff.” He fluttered the fingers of his right hand in the air near his temple, exuding casual indifference. “Must’ve been in my head.”

Blair turned around to face Jim, his face lighting up. “Turn that jungle music down, man?" He bopped in place, eyes wide, head nodding, and Jim’s breath caught in his throat.

Jim tilted his head and smiled warmly. “You’ve still got the moves, babe,” he said appreciatively.

Blair shimmied a little more, but the reminiscent effect was gone. He grinned at Jim, took a step closer and gave him a quick peck on the lips. And that simple act brought a whole slew of feelings tumbling into Jim’s heart.

“I can’t believe they’re tearing it down,” Blair groaned morosely, turning back toward the room. He threw his arms outward; the gesture encompassed not just the storage room but the entire building. “This place was a huge part of my life.” He looked over his shoulder at Jim, his eyes twinkling and a bit misty, and commented somberly, “The most important thing that ever happened to me, happened right here.”

“Me too,” Jim said quietly and with equal gravity.

Blair walked around the room silently. He examined some of the artifacts, turning them over carefully, handling them reverently. He threaded his way around the boxes and crates, taking interest in the contents of several. He crouched down, ass to heels, and delicately pawed through them, shaking his head now and then, or chuckling softly. Then he made his way to the far side of the old desk, running a fingertip through the dust along its edges.

Jim watched Blair for a few minutes, saying nothing. Then he cleared off a chair, taking the small pile of books from the seat and dropping them onto the floor. He moved the chair a few feet; to the approximate position he’d sat in the first time he’d visited this room. He crossed his arms and took up watching Blair again for a bit. Then he closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to that day, and indulged in a few moments of nostalgia.

They’d had a few bumpy times in the early years between then and now. And Jim instantly guffawed under his breath at that thought. Bumpy? There’s an understatement for you, Ellison, he chided himself.

And then he opened his eyes and there was Blair...he’d circled the desk and was paging through a book he’d picked up, his face alight with interest. His hair wasn’t quite as long as it’d been back then, or quite as unruly. His clothes were no longer thrift shop purchases, but they still edged toward hippie-ish. He sported a third hoop in his ear, and he still wore leather thongs with tribal amulets around his neck most days. His enthusiasm for life and anthropology was alive and well. And Jim loved him with every fiber of his being.

“That’s just about where you were standing when you called me a caveman,” Jim commented serenely, his jaw set, his face betraying no emotion.

Blair laughed and his eyebrows perked up; he set the book down and put his hands up, surrender-style. “Whoa, man, I never called you a caveman. I think I said you were a throwback---.” He paused mid rebuttal, recognizing that particular stone-faced veneer and tone of voice. “Oh, oh I get it, you’re messin’ with me, huh?”

Jim had replayed the first day they’d met over and over in his mind in the intervening years. If he’d known then what he knew now, he’d have handled things very differently that day. Oh so very differently. It was one of his favorite fantasies.

Hargrove Hall was slated for demolition in the near future, thanks to the after effects of an explosion set off by one of the latest bands of extremists to take up residence in Cascade. He’d conned the keys out of the current Ranier head of campus security on the pretext of a follow up to the investigation. So, today was the one and only day he’d have to turn his fantasy into reality.

He got to his feet, grabbed Blair by his shirtfront and pulled upward, bringing Blair to his toes. “Maybe I like being a caveman.” His voice was gravelly and he was almost purring. He kicked a stray box out of the way and tugged Blair a few feet to the wall, spun him around and slammed him up against it, fisting the shirt tightly in both hands.

He leaned in close, much closer than that first time and rasped, “You’re nuthin’ but a wannabe hippie---,” he floundered, his eyes narrowed in thought. His breath, warm and moist, puffed against Blair’s lips.

Blair’s heartbeat was racing, his eyes dancing as they assessed Jim’s expression. His fingers dug into the tops of Jim’s shoulders, tapping and prodding frenetically. “Punk?” he supplied helpfully in a voice not much more than a squeak.

“Yeah,” Jim agreed, nodding and smirking. “Yeah, a wannabe hippie punk.” He drew the words out slowly.

He pressed full-length against Blair. They were both breathing hard now, heaving in unison in tight gasps. Jim ground his crotch against Blair’s and as his cock nudged Blair’s they both twitched.

Their eyes locked and Blair went slightly cross-eyed as Jim’s face inched slowly closer. His eyelids fluttered and then closed, just before Jim’s lips met his.

The kiss was short and hard, brutish and kind all in one instant.

Jim reached between them with one hand, keeping Blair pinned to the wall with his other forearm splayed across his chest. He made short work of undoing Blair’s belt, popping the snap, and unzipping his jeans. He grabbed the waistband and wrestled them, along with the underwear, downward.

Blair’s eyes were still closed, his brows knotted. He licked his lips, finding that he was dry-mouthed. His chest was still heaving, his heart still pounding, and now his cock was pulsing in anticipation.

And then Jim yanked him away from the wall and pulled him back toward the chair.

Blair’s eyes popped open and he blinked rapidly. “Um, Jim? What’re you doing, man?” he asked, totally perplexed. He reached for his pants as he shuffled along with Jim, trying to pull them up to keep from tripping as they slid toward his knees.

“What I should’ve done ten years ago,” Jim answered cryptically with a menacing leer as he sat down. He let go of Blair and patted his lap. “I owe you for the lies you told that day, Dr. McKay.”

Blair gulped as realization hit. “Oh shit, man, you wouldn’t?” he responded with a nervous chuckle, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Jim’s one raised eyebrow was all the answer Blair needed.

Blair looked at the door, and then down at his twisted jeans. He wasn’t even seriously considering making a break for it until Jim’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. He tried to take a step back then, testing his chances.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Jim warned gruffly. “There’s no one out there to save your butt, hippie-boy. It’s just you and me. Time to pay up.”

The words were filled with promise along with the guarantee that Jim’d made sure they were completely alone in the building. And that knowledge sent shivery tingles right to the pit of Blair’s stomach.

“Enough stalling. Let’s go, punk,” Jim instructed bluntly, ending any possibility of escape. He took hold of Blair’s elbow and tugged. He patted his lap again. “You know you deserve this,” he taunted. “You know you want it,” he emphasized.

“Oh yeah Joe Friday?” Blair retorted, all smart-alecky now, committing to the game. “Why don’t you go fu---,”

His comeback was cut short as Jim’s hold on his elbow tightened and the tug this time was hard enough to pull Blair forward, unbalancing him. As Blair’s knees hit up against Jim’s thigh, he had no choice but to bend forward. Jim pulled him the rest of the way down and across his lap.

Blair squirmed, feeling his face heat as Jim pushed his pants down further. He fidgeted as Jim pulled him in closer to his body and placed a hand in the small of his back, holding him firmly in place. Jim stroked his ass gently, and made soft shushing noises until Blair settled.

“Are you ready?” Jim asked as he slapped Blair’s ass lightly. “Punk?” he added with a deep-throated chuckle.

“Look, man, detective, let me explain---,” Blair pleaded feebly.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jim answered placidly. He proceeded to spank Blair soundly with the flat of his hand.

Blair yipped and yelped half-hearted indignant protests of police brutality as he wiggled futilely against the sharp slaps peppering his behind. Jim responded with mock-reprimands about obstructing an officer and threats of shaking the place down for illegal substances.

Soon Blair’s wiggling subsided into co-operative thrusts and his squawking quieted to hisses and moans. The spanks slowed too, each one becoming more deliberate. And then they slowed a little more and finally stopped.

Jim’s hand rested on Blair’s warm bottom. His fingertips teased the crack of Blair’s ass with delicate strokes. “Do you think you’ve learned your lesson, punk?” he snarled roughly.

Blair’s cock shuddered in response to Jim’s touches and the interrogative tone of Jim’s voice…the tone that usually had perps spilling their guts. He shook his head in an effort to clear it enough to answer. And then quickly changed it to a furtive nodding as he answered with as much articulateness as he could muster, which turned out not to be much.

“No, I mean, yes, yes sir. Yes, detective.”

Jim put Blair on his feet and stood up. Blair swayed unsteadily for a moment, light-headed and reeling from the change of position and sudden drop in euphoria. He rested his forehead on Jim’s chest and Jim held onto his upper arms until his stance remained more or less fixed.

As soon as Jim released his hold, Blair’s hands went to his butt and he started rubbing.

“Ah, ah, ah. Hands on your head, teach, we’re not done yet,” Jim scolded.

Blair shot Jim a dirty look but did as he was told, holding his tongue. His jeans dropped to the floor as he raised his arms. His shirttails inched upward, exposing his cock, which was half-hard and trembling. He watched in silence while Jim shoved some of the books on the desktop to one side, clearing a space.

Jim reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a set of handcuffs. He dangled them in the air in front of Blair’s face and then stepped behind him. “You have the right to remain silent,” he began as he took Blair’s left wrist, brought it down to the small of his back, and snapped a cuff on it. “Though I really doubt you’ll be able to---,”

“Whoa, man, what’re the charges?” Blair interrupted indignantly on cue. He struggled a little, but didn’t resist when Jim cuffed his other hand.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jim speculated airily, “false impersonation, obstructing an officer, resisting arrest, do I need to continue?”

“Look, detective,” Blair backpedaled contritely, “can’t we work something out here? I mean, come on, man, what’s the big deal? It was just a few harmless obfuscations.” His voice rose a pitch, and he laced it with just a hint of panic. “I could lose my job if you haul me in.”

“Well now, I wouldn’t want that to happen,” Jim deadpanned calmly. He used his firm hold on Blair’s fettered wrists to twist him around to face the desk. Then he leaned in close, right next to Blair’s ear and whispered, “bend over.” It wasn’t a suggestion and Jim didn’t give Blair time to debate it. A simple nudge was all it took and Blair was face down.

“Hey!” Blair protested weakly.

Jim stood right behind Blair, bumped his crotch against Blair’s ass and prodded as he rocked back and forth. The heated flesh soaked right through his jeans and satin boxers, warming his cock and groin.

Blair whimpered softly and clenched his cheeks.

Jim admonished Blair with a few clucked tsk’s and stepped away. He swatted Blair’s butt. “Too bad I don’t have a ruler,” he groused wistfully as he trailed a finger across Blair’s right ass cheek.

Blair stiffened, drew in a breath with a sharp hiss and held it. When he exhaled, two words tumbled out with the expelled breath without him even making the conscious decision to say them.

“Top drawer,” he said, and then let his forehead drop to the desktop. He started panting and shifting his weight from one foot to the other anxiously. He kept his head down as he listened to Jim walk around to the other side of the desk and open the drawer.

“Bingo!” Jim crowed triumphantly.

Blair raised his head and came up eye-level with a mighty impressive bulge in Jim’s pants.

“Are you, um, are you gonna let me take care of that for you, officer? Uh, I mean detective? Um, detective, sir?” Blair blathered, never taking his eyes from Jim’s crotch.

Jim hunkered down and met Blair’s gaze with crystal-clear ice blue intensity.

“Your ass is mine Chief,” was all he said. He straightened up and Blair tilted his head upward, following the movement. Jim started tapping the ruler against the palm of his hand. He had a distinctly smug look on his face.

Several curly-cued hunks of hair fell into Blair’s eyes and he shook his head in an effort to clear his line of sight. The action made him acutely aware of the position he was in and he blushed furiously.

By the time Jim sauntered back around the desk, Blair was fidgeting like crazy. His cock was getting hard, pressing uncomfortably into the side of the desk. He hefted himself up off the desk and swayed sideway right into Jim’s grasp.

Without a word of warning, Jim whacked Blair’s ass with the ruler six times, fast and hard. Blair’s fingers grappled ineffectively with the air as he cried out with a strangled noise that morphed into Jim’s name.

Blair ended up bent across the desk once again. Jim held his wrists to the small of his back with gentle force.

“I’m gonna paddle you with this ruler and then I’m gonna fuck you, hippie-boy,” Jim stated matter-of-factly. “That should just about make things even between us, don’t you agree?” He thwacked Blair’s ass heavily with the ruler and let it rest where it landed. “Answer me.”

Blair nodded earnestly with just about his entire body. “Yes sir, detective, thank you,” he croaked.

Jim thwacked him with the ruler again. “And don’t even think of coming until your cock is in my mouth,” he advised sternly.

Things were pretty much a blur for Blair after that. The ruler cracked down against his already hot stinging ass over and over. There was lube, the apple-cinnamon scented one that Jim was especially fond of, dribbled into his crack, and he incoherently wondered where it’d come from. There were a few more slaps, bare handed now, followed by soft caresses. He may have muttered a ‘please’ or something else a bit less polite. And then, in one smooth stroke, Jim’s cock was inside him. Jim placed his hands on Blair’s hips. He splayed his fingers across Blair’s sides and his thumbs reassuringly brushed Blair’s jittery fingers.

And then, as he pounded into him, Jim reminded Blair of why he was being punished by reciting a steady stream of nonsense charges.

Blair just started jabbering then, confessing to several unpaid parking tickets, an overdue library book, smoking a joint at the last party he’d attended…anything to keep Jim’s cock in him, hard and punishing and oh so good, just a little longer.

It seemed to work. With every half-baked admission of guilt, Jim grunted or groaned and thrust harder.

And then Blair had to bite his lip and use every ounce of determination he had not to come.

“Oh yeah,” Jim finally said with a sigh as he built to climax. “Oh yeah, yes,” he murmured repeatedly.

Jim came with a soft growl and let his upper body sag against Blair. He took a few deep breaths as his cock softened. Blair pushed back demandingly and he continued to steadily hump. His own hard-on was growing near to painful, and a softly gurgled, needy moan came from deep down in his throat. Jim quickly maneuvered Blair to his feet with dizzying speed and turned him around. He sunk to his knees and sucked Blair’s cock into his mouth. Blair threw back his head and moaned as he jerked twice and came.

Jim pulled Blair down to his knees, kissed him bruisingly, and then crushed him to his chest and started stroking his hot ass.

Blair crumpled against Jim, chuckling and panting. “Wow, shit, Jim, man, how long have you had that fantasy bouncing around in that repressed subconscious of yours?” he questioned with a snort.

“Oh, a few years.” Jim admitted a bit self-consciously and shrugged. “When you said you wanted to have a last look around Hargrove before it comes down, I figured, why not? Now or never.”

Jim kept stroking Blair’s ass and started nuzzling his neck.

Blair sighed contentedly. His butt was hot and sore inside and out, but Jim’s hands were gentle now and felt incredibly good despite the sting and burn.

“I’m taking that ruler home with us,” Jim commented decisively, as if Blair might object.

Blair just laughed, nodded agreeably, and then bumped a shoulder into Jim, hard, and worked his arms to one side. “Cuffs, man, I’m getting pins and needles,” he huffed.

Jim let go of Blair and fished the key out of his jacket pocket. He took the cuffs off, let them drop to the floor, and massaged Blair’s wrists.

They spent a few more minutes in Artifact Storage Room 3 in the basement of Hargrove Hall on the Ranier campus. They tidied themselves up between kisses and caresses, and then took one final look around the room.

“Want any other souvenirs?” Jim asked lightly, brandishing the ruler.

“Nah,” Blair replied as he rubbed his butt emphatically and then thumped Jim on the chest. “I got what I wanted.”

Jim re-locked the door as they left and they strolled down the hall toward the exit in silence, their echoed footsteps the only sound.

They exited the building and jogged down the steps together.

Jim put an arm around Blair’s shoulder and reeled him in against his side. “Too bad they’re not tearing down the lecture hall, Prof,” he teased as they walked toward the truck. “I’ve got a few notions about that lectern---,”


End file.
